Cold
by Radical Phantom
Summary: Sort of what you would call a drabble from Scar's POV about what happened to his brother. Please R&R my First fanfic


The harsh desert winds were all that was heard. The sand blew over my face and over my body. The winds were like the whispers of the lives that were now inside of me.

"Brother!"

I arched my body over him. His face was now wet with my tears as I cried for him. I put a hand to his forehead. Could he still be alive? Please… please god let him still be alive.

All I felt was cold

He was nothing more then a body now… a cold shell of what he once was, just a cold stiff shell. Even in the wastelands of the desert I could still feel that cold… that vile horrible cold.

But…. he had been a shell before this hadn't he?

When I was walking with him away from our life in Ishbal, away from our home, there was a cold thick silence. I had tried to talk to him, reminiscing of old friends and memories. I made sure not to mention her... or alchemy. But in his eyes I no longer saw the strong warmth I once saw. I no longer saw a hero…. I didn't see anything. His eyes were so empty. He had been responding only with a slight nod or a fake smile.

He was cold then to wasn't he?

I remember… when she died, how hard she was crying. And how I wished there was something I could do to comfort him. When she had died… I felt nothing for her, but for my brother I had felt everything. At least then he was showing emotion. At least back then he had some indicator that he was alive, that he was still my brother.

He was to cold to even come to her funeral.

No, instead he buried himself in his studies. He didn't eat or talk to me; He scarcely came out of his room. I'd cook him food and leave it by the wooden door to his study then come back to collect the plates and find the food untouched. I was only a child. How could I have predicted he would do this? How could I have helped him? What the hell was I supposed to have done? I'd wait outside his door for hours at a time. I'd knock on the door and call for him. He was my only family… the only person I had left. Our parents were dead; I had lived with him for such a long time. This had to get better…. He couldn't be like this forever.

Only… now his coldness was starting to make me cold.

This is where my hatred had started to build up. I remember I had gone to the market one day where I heard two women talking about us. They were saying I was neglected… they called my brother a heretic and said they took pity on me for living with one like him. They said I should be taken away from him. Something shot through me instantly when they had said that. Like sadness and panic, all at once I started to feel sick. Then an emotion I didn't recognize, I was starting to feel hate. But I couldn't hate him! This man was still my brother. He wasn't neglectful this had nothing to do with me! The more I thought about it the more hate I started to feel. When was the last time he had talked to me? When was the last time he had even come out of his room or gone outside? These thoughts ran over and over again through my mind. And that's when I decided it… I didn't just hate him.

I _loathed _him.

Every time I thought about him I felt sick to my stomach. That bastard… he really was a heretic. Just like those women said, just like everyone had said. I no longer waited outside his door. I no longer made him food or called for him. I decided I would continue my life without him… He didn't mean shit to me. He could stay in that stupid room with his heretic sorcery for the rest of his fucking life for what I cared. I had never hated anyone like this before. Especially not him… not my brother. Not my hero, the man who took me in and treated me like a son rather then a brother.

That's when the war came

I had heard of our people resisting the military but I thought it was normal. It was what the military expected though, right? Because we wouldn't put aside our traditional beliefs and use…..alchemy. That was once of the first times my brother had come out of his home, the day when we were forced to leave Ishbal. By that time… a small amount of the hatred had eased itself and turned into nothing. Like a flame dying. I felt nothing for him… I did make small talk yes… but I suppose there was nothing behind it.

Perhaps… I too, am cold.

Now I sit here. I gaze at my… no… my brother's arm. He saved me…. he did love me. I felt sobs in the back of my throat make their way up. How could I have hated him? How could I have had such cruel thoughts? How could I not have told him I loved him? How could I be so…

_Cold_

I stand up listening to the desert winds. I take one last glance at his stiff body. Leaving both his body and my unspoken words behind I move forward. I don't know where I will go. But I do know…

I will never again be warm.


End file.
